


Descent

by unadrift



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ascension, First Kiss, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 08:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadrift/pseuds/unadrift
Summary: It's been over three months. Three months, six days and thirteen hours, since Rodney died on Kahal.





	Descent

**Author's Note:**

> If you think you have read this before, you may be right. I'm importing some oooold fics that somehow never made it onto AO3. This is a repost from LJ community mcsmooch, posted in 2008. This fic was betaed by tacit.

At first John thinks he's imagining it.

"Sheppard? John?" A pause. "Anyone?"

Colonel Carter's eyes widen and Teyla goes impossibly still.

Carter finally taps her earpiece. "Rodney?"

John can hear Rodney answer sarcastically, "No, it's the Emperor of China. Hey, um, I don't suppose anyone can spare a shirt?" Then John is sprinting off at top speed, knowing exactly where he needs to go.

* * *

It's been over three months. Three months, six days and thirteen hours, since Rodney died on Kahal.

"Sorry," Rodney said then, over the comm. "Sorry, I can't--" The insistent hum of the generator increased gradually in the background, getting shriller, more menacing with every passing second. "Goodbye, John." Rodney sounded far less frantic than John would have expected him to be. Far less frantic than John was himself. That was when he knew that Rodney wasn't panicking, that this was Rodney being realistic.

His mouth went dry. "No. Rodney," he said, desperately, and "How long?"

"Any moment now."

He could tell Rodney was still trying to shut the generator down, still fighting what he already knew was a losing battle. Because there was nothing else John could do, nothing at all, he gripped his P-90 so hard it hurt and said, with his voice not breaking, "Clear blue skies, Rodney. Clear blue skies."

"Clear blue skies," Rodney repeated after a moment, and John would have given anything, anything, to switch places with him, to die instead of him. "Clear blue skies." He imagined Rodney lifting his hands from whatever console he had been working on, closing his eyes, a look of deep concentration on his face.

Then there was only static. John could feel the blast of the underground explosion as it shook the floor.

The Kahal were very grateful that almost everyone had been spared a fiery death and really very sorry that Rodney hadn't been. They built him a statue on the central square of the city. It was very heroic. John thought Rodney would have loved it. They didn't find a body, but that was to be expected. It didn't mean anything at all.

They buried an empty coffin back on Earth two weeks later. Jeannie should have looked at John accusingly, but she didn't. She hugged him tight after the funeral, with tears in her eyes, and it was the first time the fact managed to slam through his solid defences: Rodney was gone.

It was another week and four counselling sessions before John was cleared for duty again. He'd imagined it would become easier with work on his hands, but it didn't. Rodney's absence was most painfully obvious on trying off-world missions, when John anticipated complaints about the cold, the humidity, deadly radiation, steep slopes, dense undergrowth, smelly air, or the stupidity of people in general. Zelenka was capable, but he wasn't nearly bitchy enough.

The labs held no comfort for John either. Even crawling with people they felt empty and pointless, much like Atlantis itself had in their first year, with its advanced defence systems and no ZPM to power them. John quickly dismissed his half-formed plan of visiting Rodney's quarters. He started spending a lot of his downtime on the lower levels instead, sitting quietly and staring at the Ascension machine, considering possibilities. He always took the stairs down there, took his time with what became a kind of ritual for him. Teyla joined him once in awhile. "You are not planning to--" she started to ask one day, casting a doubtful glance at the machine. "No. It's just--" John didn't know what it was. "You feel close to him here," Teyla guessed, and that was it exactly.

There were times when Colonel Carter had John almost convinced he was grasping for straws, hoping against hope. Ronon and Teyla were wise enough not to try. John didn't know what would be left of him if that hope died, too. He thought about Elizabeth then. She would have been right there hoping with him.

John still wasn't sure, either way, until about two months in. One night, when he had almost drifted off to sleep, he felt something, a gentle pressure against the core of his being, a palm placed longingly on the window to his soul. He was fully awake in a second and even said, "Rodney?" out loud. He breathed for long minutes, in and out, in and out. In the end, he laughed in relief and laid down again. He slept better that night than he had in weeks. From the next day on, whenever he went to the Ascension room, it was to wait.

* * *

Now, John takes the transporter closest to the briefing room and runs the rest of the way. The door opens at his thought when he's still at the far end of the corridor. John slows right in front of it, with a sickening mixture of dread and anticipation resting like lead in his stomach. He steps through.

Rodney is there. He's there. Alive. Naked. Sitting on the steps of the Ascension machine, eyes bright. "John," he says, grinning. "I did it."

It's too much, too damn much to not finally break. John closes the distance and lets himself sink to his knees in front of him. Rodney's grin gives way to a puzzled frown. "What--" John cups Rodney's cheek with one hand and hooks the other behind his neck. 

John imagined being soft and gentle, those times he let himself imagine Rodney coming back. He imagined saying a few things first, too. As it goes, he doesn't, just pulls Rodney closer with a forceful tug. Rodney lets out a startled breath, and then John's lips are pressed to his, dry, not really tender. John holds them like this for an awkward moment and fears what could happen once he lets go.

But then Rodney lifts his hand to the side of John's face, fingertips ghosting over his temple, palm brushing his cheek, and the room starts spinning with the certainty that John is going to have this, to have it for real. Have Rodney here, alive, and on the same page.

Rodney moves back a little, licks his lips the same moment John does, and they're kissing, really kissing, and it's more than John hoped for; the urgency, the need, striking him like lightning as their tongues meet. The hands in his hair hold on tight, Rodney explores with devotion, dominates the kiss, and with that toe-curling amount of attention aimed at him, John doesn't mind being in the backseat at all. Somehow - why? - John fleetingly thinks about the others, who can't be that far behind him and could storm in any minute, and decides he couldn't care less.

Rodney suddenly pulls back, looking confused. "Wait," he whispers, and John's heart misses a beat. "Wait. Not that I don't-- But this is-- It's not what I remember. Dammit. I was so sure the machine would help preserve my memories. God, what else have I forgotten?" Rodney asks, voice rising with panic. "Theoretical physics, math, city specifics, ZPM research? My brain was so stuffed. We're all screwed."

"No, we're not," John says. This is so Rodney it makes something in his chest ache. "You can't remember. We never-- We should have, but we never--"

"Oh," Rodney breathes. "It feels familiar."

John stares at him for a moment. "Yeah. It kind of does."

Rodney grins a slanted little grin, and John can't help but kiss him again.


End file.
